


==>Rose: Summon Dark Forces

by Quilly



Series: Married with Grubs [10]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Phase Two, in which use of the broodfester tongues is revolutionized for effective parenting, incredibly self-indulgent babyfic, of the Married with Grubs event, part of the Sherlockbound/Fun with Dirk and Jane universe, wednesday you put that salt down this instant young lady
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:43:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quilly/pseuds/Quilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Rose Lalonde-Maryam and your children are about to feel your cold, slimy wrath.</p>
<p>(Part of the Married with Grubs event for the Sherlockbound/Life with Dirk and Jane series. Phase Two: Childhood, 4/5)</p>
            </blockquote>





	==>Rose: Summon Dark Forces

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, all! This is an event going on at the Sherlockbound askblog (asksherlockbound.tumblr.com, check the sidebar for the Married with Grubs button) and I'm moving the drabbles over to here for other people to access, so voila! This is the fourth of five in Phase Two: Childhood of that event! If you're curious about what Sherlockbound/Life with Dirk and Jane is, check my page for the series Life with Dirk and Jane!
> 
> Enjoy!

Your name is Rose Lalonde-Maryam and your children are about to find out exactly how monstrous you can be.

 

You have three children, all of whom you love dearly, and on normal days they are the most well-behaved angels you believe have ever existed. They are not perfect, of course, but they are polite, at the very least. You and Kanaya do your best to raise them to be whatever they wish to be and hope in turn they will have common courtesy and clean up their rooms and do the dishes.

Clearly you have been slacking, because this is the third day in a row where either you or Kanaya have done the dishes and their rooms are filthy.

Drastic measures are in order.

You have studied eldritch rituals since you were young, alongside your hobbyist psychology, and therefore know the perfect method of how to create a dark aura to make even the hardiest of souls quake in fear. You fetch your most arcane knitting needles (you found these in an antique shop of all places) and wait for the cool mint tingle that lets you know the grimdark energies are upon you.

The children will know soon enough.

They are spread out over the house, Aubrey on the back porch, Wednesday in her room, Rodrey in Kanaya’s studio, and you can feel their energies flare with sudden spikes of fear as you go to collect them. First, your eldest. You do not take her by the horns, as you have thought of doing; you merely look at her, eyes glowing and dark miasma twitching in a mass of tentacle-esque figures, and she simply puts down her book and goes to sit on the couch.

Next, Rodrey, your youngest. You do knock him between the horns, gently, and point. He sighs, rolls his eyes, closes the catalog he’s perusing, and joins his sister.

Now for the difficult one. Wednesday herself is no novice in the art of summoning the horrorterrors, and neither does she submit easily. She has the unbridled will of a Lalonde and you are proud you have taught her well, but she must also learn to submit to you while she is living under your roof. You have a speech prepared that you know she will hear, but will not listen to, so you discard the speech in favor of merely glaring menacingly and promising her a grounding.

She is prepared when you open her door, inside a chalk circle and brandishing the salt shaker.

“ _Use the salt and I will make you buy another canister_ ,” you hiss sibilantly. Wednesday raises an eyebrow and tilts the shaker, ever so slightly.

“ _Wednesday. I am serious. Do not use the salt._ ”

“Are you just saying that because you know it’ll knock you out of the grimdark, or because you’re actually concerned about the salt?” she asks, and you let out a pleasant little snarl.

“ _Both. Put the salt down, step out of your protective circle, take off the iron ring, and join your brother and sister on the couch._ ”

This seems to take her longer than usual to parse together, but when she figures it out she glares harder. You reach out a toe and smudge the chalk. She _tsks_ and throws the salt on her bed, stalking around you and into the living room. Good girl.

You stalk towards your offspring and pace for a few moments, bathing them in the dark reach of your black magics, then begin speaking. If there is any confusion, Wednesday will translate.

“ _I am disappointed in the state the house is being kept in. Your mother and I work hard to put food on the table, clothes on your backs, and keep this roof overhead, and I do not appreciate having that effort spat upon by children who would rather read, design, and summon demons than clean their rooms and do the dishes._

“ _So this is how it is going to be. I am going to be grounding all three of you from books, from sketchpads, and from any and all statements of societal rebellion until things begin picking up around here. Rooms clean, dishes done, floors swept, furniture dusted, and clutter cleared away. Am I understood?_ ”

Wednesday rolls her eyes again. Rodrey and Aubrey have screwed-up expressions, and you sigh deeply, releasing the throes of the zoologically dubious and standing before them as their mother once again.

“I only ask that you do your part around the house,” you say gently. “The punishment still stands, but for only the remainder of the week. I expect these chores to be completed before other modes of entertainment are sought. Do I make myself clear?”

There is a dull chorus of “yes, Mother” and a shuffle off of the couch, and as you return your needles to their proper place you see Aubrey taking care of the dishes, Rodrey vacuuming the rugs, and Wednesday furtively dusting your bookshelf of grimoires and spells. You suppose you didn’t specify she couldn’t read about the ancient ambiguities of paradox space, and allow her to sneak a tome from the shelf.

Aubrey and Rodrey both come to you after their chores are done with apologies in their faces. You forgive them both, fail to specify to Aubrey that she cannot proofread her Aunt Roxy’s newest wizard fiction manuscript, and leave out the unpublished rough of this month’s Vogue featuring Kanaya’s designs for Rodrey to find. Wednesday is nowhere to be seen, and you sigh to yourself and suppose that was to be expected.

That night at dinner Wednesday asks you to pass the peas in the broodfester tongues. Kanaya glances at you. You merely smile and do as she asks.


End file.
